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THE LITTLE GOD 

Child Verse for Grown-ups 



BY 



KATHARINE HOWARD 

Author of "The Book of the Serpent," Eve," 
* 'Candle Flame," Poems," etc. 



With illustrations by the author 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1916 






sV*. 









Copyright, 1916 
Sherman, French & Company 

Entered at Stationers' Hall 

Foreign Rights Reserved 

Translation Rights Reserved 





©CI.A438226 

/ 




TO 

THE POETRY SOCIETY OF AMERICA 

IN TRUST FOR 

THE LITTLE GODS OF THE FUTURE 



PART I 




THE LITTLE GOD 

Mother says there's a little god 

Lives in my garden. 
I asked her — "In the tree?" — 
I asked her — "In the fountain?" 
And she said, yes, that she, 
Plain as plain could be, 
Everywhere could see 

The little god. 
"What's he look like, mother?" 
"Oh," she said, "like the flowers, 
Like the summer showers, 
Like the morning dew, — 
Like you." 

She says he's everywhere 
In my garden — I can't see him there. 




THE APPLE SEED 

Once a little girl planted 

An apple seed — Mother did it; 

Now it is a tall tree. 

I wonder how tall I'll grow 

When I'm as big as I can be — 

Perhaps I'll have to be planted, too, 

Before I can reach high, 

Way up into the blue, 

Clear up into the sky. 



VIOLETS 

I just ate six violets, 

'Cause they tasted good; 

I hope they understood. 

I hope they know 

It was because I love them so. 

I've been wondering how 

The taste gets in; 

I've been wondering how 

The smell gets out. 

Mother says I've worn her out 

Asking why and what it's all about; 

She said I'd understand sometime, — 

I'll be told when I'm enough old. 




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PUSSY WILLOW 



Willow, willow, pussy willow! 

Are you growing kitten tails? 

Willow, willow, kitten willow! 

Come closer on my pillow 

Till I see what you are made of. 

Are you going to be a cat-tail by the brook? 

Let me pull your fur to pieces, let me look. 

Willow, willow, kitten willow! 
Mother put you on the pillow 

by my head 
'Cause I can't get up to-day; 
So you have come to play. 

'Cause I ate too many flowers, 
Now I have to pass the hours, 

Like them, in bed — 
That's what mother said. 
Willow, willow, pussy willow! 
Come closer on my pillow. 



CROCUSES 

Crocuses are jolly little things; 
They never mind the weather. 
I like to call them little cusses, 

But mother fusses. 
In my garden there's a lot of them 

together, — 
Poked their heads out of the dirt 
And laughed at the bad weather, — 

Laughed all together; 
Double ones and single, 
Such a jolly crowd! 
I forgot and said out loud, 
"Cunning little cusses," — 
And mother fusses. 




THE WORM 

When I was first begun 
I crept like a worm. 'Twas fun, — 
I can't remember, but I guess 'twas fun. 
They have a lot of creepers — more than I ; 

I wonder why. 
When they grow up they'll get ahead, — 
They have such lots of creepers. 
Mother said they creep slow 
'Cause they've a long way to go. 
I love to see them squirm; 
I wish I could remember 
When I was just a worm. 



THE SUNBEAM 

Sometimes 

When the sun shines 

In my window about bedtime 

It makes a golden road 

Down to the floor. 

I like to kneel there 

And say my prayer 

Sunset time, — about seven, 

When things are going home. 

It must lead straight into the sun 

For sunbeams to run home on 

When the day is done. 





A CHANGE OF WEATHER 

My violets are cross with me; 

They have a look that seems to say, 

"Go away! we don't want to play." 

I just yelled at them, "You're queer!" 

And they pretended not to hear. 

Bad tempers, I suppose; 

Mother said, "Yes, why not?" 

She said they knew 

What they were about. 

They wanted the sky blue, 

And the sun to come out, — 

And the sun did. 

He laughed and so did they; 

There was a changed weather, 

And we all laughed together. 





THE MIZ 

There's lots of things that grown-ups 

Can't seem to understand. 

They don't know much about the Miz ; 

I know: it's neither sea nor land; 

It's where the things are made; 

It's the Beginnings' place. 

I often go there in the night; 

The sand man sits upon my face 

So I can't see them, quite. 

They squirm about an awful lot, 

For most of them are tails; 

Some look like inky spread-out blots, 

And some may grow to whales. 

I talked to Daddy of the Miz. 

He says there's no such place, 

But I just know there is. 

It's in the Bible, too; 

It's on the page, "Thou shalt not steal." 

It tells about the sea and all that 

in the Miz. 
So when he says there's no such place, 
Why, I just know there is. 



I WONDER 

Oh, dear! I wonder lots of things 
About the words the Bluebird sings, 
He swings and swings on the trees, 
Or perhaps it's the breeze 
Swings him. 

Oh, dear! I wonder everything, — 
If it's just happiness they sing. 
Then perhaps birds have no 
Need of words; 
They have wings and we have words. 



I RAN AWAY 

I ran away. 

I climbed the garden wall, 
And ran into the day; 
It was so big and wide 
I couldn't play. 
I don't know why, 
But I was quite afraid, — 
Just God and I 
Alone in the daylight. 
I was afraid He couldn't 
See me from the sky, 
I felt so small. 

I couldn't play at all. 
The wild flowers 
Were different from ours. 
And then, some way or other, 
I grew afraid of God, — 
I wanted Mother. 



THE AWFULLEST THISTLES 

Theophilus Thistle and his mate 
Are standing guard outside the gate. 





IN MY GARDEN 

There's a great, big, striped peony 

In my garden, 
With her leaves all smooth and sheeny; 
She's the mother of them all. 
There's a larkspur, blue and tall, 
Standing close against the wall, — 
Seems as if she's reaching up 

Toward the sky. 
Soon she'll be as tall as I ; 
Maybe because she's blue 

Like the sky 
She wants to go to heaven too. 



MY FOUNTAIN 

The birds bathe in my fountain. 
They say, "Tweet, tweet," 
And get in with their feet. — 
Lots of things a boy can't do 
'Cause mother's 'fraid. 

Once I was in the garden night-time, 
And I saw a star — by moon-shine; 
It had come from far and high, 
Away up in the sky, 
To bathe in my fountain. 

I stirred the water with a stick 

And made some splashes, 

And then the star broke all to bits 

In little flashes; — 

I reached pretty far 

Trying to poke that star. 

Something mother's made of 
Makes her very 'fraid of 
Things I do. 




THE ROSE 

This morning when I came awake, 

There was a rose in full bloom 

Looking right in my window. 

I knew her when she was a bud 

Just the other day; 

Now she is a rose, come to stay 

Until her leaves fall off. 

When they're all off 

She'll go away. 

She won't be a rose — 

But she'll return, she knows. 

She won't go far, 

And I'll save her leaves 

In my rose jar. 



THE HONEY BEE 

I picked a honey bee. 
He must have thought I was a flower, 
'Cause he stuck himself in me. 
I didn't cry — I just screamed — 
Oh, it seemed an hour 
Till Mother came. 
I made an awful row, — 
But I'm all well now. 
He was a silly bee, 
Trying to get honey out of me. 
I know: he heard Mother 
Call me honey, and he thought 
He'd see. 



THE POBLUM 

I heard Daddy say— talking 

to Mother — he said, 
"Life's a poblum — wonder if 

We'll know when we're dead." 
Funny the way these grown-ups talk: 
Other day he took me for a walk, — 
Buttercups and butterflies in the field 

Everywhere. 
Daddy said, "This day is very fair." 
I said, "Life's a poblum — 
Wonder if we'll know when 
We're dead." 
And Daddy said, quite cross, "That's 

enough — 
Where'd you hear such stuff?" 
I didn't dare to ask, but I'll find out 

some day — 
What is a poblum, anyway. 



TAGS 

The gardener put tags on my flowers: 
"Labels," he said. — I took them off. 
Mother doesn't know what got into my head; 
1 acted like a wildflower, she said. 

I don't know, — 
I didn't like them, so — I took them off. 
I'm not to do so any more: 
I've promised — 'cause I tore 
Them all first go. 

We don't like tags, the flowers and me, — - 
We like to be 
All free and free, 
My flowers and me. 




GROWING UP 

Once, when I was very little, 
More than a year ago, 
I heard some roses singing, — 
Else I dreamed it, 

I don't know. 
Mother says they're singing now, 
But I don't hear — 
Makes me wonder which is real: 
Dreams or daytimes. 

More than a year — 
A year's so long, I think, — 
Such a long ways to go in hours. 
I wish I could be done new each year, 
Same as my flowers. 



FLOWER OR WEED 

One day I peeked into a seed, — 
I worried fear it was a weed. 
I couldn't see the leastest tiny mite, 
And mother said the fault was with 

My sight. 
"Listen!" she said. "Now do you hear 

An angel sing? 
Now do you hear the flutter of a wing?" 
I couldn't hear a single thing — 

Although I do sometimes. 
She said the fault was with my ears, 
And I just bursted into tears. 



SWEET PEAS 

Oh! my sweet peas are out, 

All the whole row — 

Looks like a rainbow! 

I wonder if they know 

What they're about. 

It's such a chilly day, and showers 

Kind of hard on new flowers. 

They look like humming-birds 

Perching along a twig, — 

All sorts of ones, little and big. 

Only they don't whir 

Like humming-birds and bees; 

They don't stir 

Unless the wind shakes them — 

'Cause they're my sweet peas. 



IVe been thinking perhaps they were birds 
And got so attached and clinging 

They forgot singing, 
And so at last they got catched 

To the sweet-pea vine, 
'Course, it's why their leaves 
Look like wings: — 
When I think hard it's easy 
To explain things. 




MY RAMBLER ROSE 

My rambler rose climbs 

In the night. 
I watch all day and she stays still, 
But in the night she grows. 
You see, she is a rambling rose. 
I wish she'd ramble in the day. 
Sometimes I hardly move away, 
I want so much to see her climb. 
I think maybe she will sometime — 
I care so much that, when she knows, 
She'll let me watch her while she grows,- 

My rambler rose. 



DADDY ROSE 

IVe hunted all the morning 

To find a daddy rose. 

The red rose has a secret: 

There's something sweet she knows; 

She told it to a honey bee, — 

I wish that she'd tell me. 




I know! I know! 

I watched, and now I know 

The secret of the rose. 

I know and the bee knows, — 

There isn't any daddy rose. 

He was a daddy bee, 

And the red rose and he 

Have made a butterfly, — 

I saw it in the sky. 



THE DRAGON-FLY 

To-day I saw a dragon-fly, — 

Blue as the sky 

And sort of purple ; 

I think he is a flower with wings, 

Such bright whizzy things, — 

Seems as if he sings 

When he flies. 

Perhaps he's growing to a bird. 
Mother says, "There's no knowing,- 
Everything's on the way." — 
Perhaps I'll be a bird some day. 



GETTING MISTOOK 

Toadstools are wicked, 
Mushrooms are good, — 
And yet they look the same : 
I guess it's so with me, — 
Hard telling me apart 
When I am good from when 

I'm bad. 
Some things are wild, some things 

are tame, 
And look almost the same: 
I guess it's easy to get mistook 
By way things look. 

It's easy to tell wrong from right 
'Cept some person interferes, — 
Something inside of me that no one 

hears tells me, 
But then that person says, 

"Oh, no— 
That isn't right, — that isn't so." 
I don't think it's very much 

That persons know. 




BUTTERFLIES 

I dance with butterflies, 
They dance with me; 
They fly from flowers to flowers 
All of the day-time hours. 

I wonder if they dance at night, — 
I cannot see them by starlight ; 
Perhaps they go to dream upon a star, 
Their wings can fly so far. 

Once I had wings, because 
I fly in dreams; 
And so it seems 
I wouldn't know the way, — 
Only I had wings some day 
Long ago. 



AFTER THE STORM 

Something happened in my garden 

in the night: 
When I went to bed my flowers were 

there all right; 
When the storm was over, I went out 
And found their petals scattered all about. 
I looked and looked, but all I found 
Was leaves and leaves upon the ground. 

Mother says, because it's Fall; 

I don't understand at all. 

The leaves have fallen 'cause it's Fall? — 

It doesn't sound like sense at all 

'Less that is how it got its name, 

'Cause Fall and Autumn is the same. 

I'm feeling sort of sad to-day, — 
There seems so much to what I say. 
Last night I went to bed so glad, 
But now I'm feeling sort of sad. 




When I have gone to sleep to-night 
And Mother has put out the light, 
Maybe I won't wake up at all, 
And Mother'll say, "Because it's rail." 

Now Mother's tucked me into bed, 
And there were lots of things she said, 
'Cause I am feeling very sad 
Although I have done nothing bad. 

My dear old flowers are all gone dead, 
But there were lots of things she said: 
She said, "Next Spring the flowers will grow 
Just as they did last Spring, you know, 
They've hid themselves inside their seeds 
For fear of Jack Frost's naughty deeds." 

When it grows very cold indeed 
I guess I'll crawl inside my seed. 




FAIRIES 

Mother lit the fairy lantern 
When I went to bed 
'Cause 'twas Hallowe'en, 
And there came into my room 
All the trees I've ever seen 
And bowed to me. 

They waved their branches over me 
And grew against the wall, — 
Young trees they were 
That stood up straight and tall. 
Mother said, "Do you see fairies?" 
I had thought them leaves. 
Perhaps it's just what one believes, 
'Cause when she said it, 
There were fairies everywhere. 




THE LITTLE BEAST 

Mother said that I must always tell 
The truth, and it would make her glad; 
For so I'd be an honorable gentleman as well 
As a dear little lad. 

To-day a person came to tea. 
Mother and Daddy both agreed, 
Before she came, that she 
Was just as horrid as could be. 
And then they made her tea 

As sweet, as sweet, 
And put a footstool to her feet 
And gave the biggest cake. 
I thought they had made some mistake. 
I'd be an honorable gentleman, and so 
When she got up to go 
I told her what they'd said. 




And now I'm put to bed. 

Mother's not glad; 

She didn't call me 

Her dear little lad. 

I seem to have been bad 

Because I told the truth; 

She says I must not tell it 

Like a little beast, 
That I must be polite at least. 

I'm not an honorable gentleman 

Nor a dear little lad; 
I'm just a growly little beast 
With scratchy claws, — and all because 

I told the truth: — at least 
I am a truthful beast. 

Mother just came and kissed my eyes; 

I growled and showed my scratchy claws, — 

And then she said she loved me 

'Cause — 
I was her little beast. 






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THE LITTLE VOICE 

We were in the pantry by our self, 

Me and the cake; 
It looked so pleasant on the shelf, 

I climbed up there myself. 
I heard a little voice inside the cake 
Say, "Eat me." I don't think 'twas a 

mistake. 
I pretended I was a little mouse 
Trying to get inside my house; 
The little voice was crying to come out, 
And so I nibbled all the edge about. — 
Then mother came, and all at once I knew 
It was a wrong thing to do. 
I wasn't being good, 
But mother understood: 

Mother's so dear when I have things to tell, 
And she can make a hurt place well. 




SHADOWS ON THE WALL 

Sometimes in winter 

When I've gone to bed, 

The firelight shines upon the wall; 

The shadows flicker here and there, 

And I can't go to sleep at all. 

Queer shapes are dancing everywhere, 

And I can make them, too ; 

I make them with my hands, — 

Geese and hens and foxes too, 

And beasts that live in foreign lands. 

I make them eat each other up ; 
The elephant eats his brother up. — 
And then — I'm so afraid 
I pray to God my soul to keep, 
And then I go to sleep. 



BEFORE I CAME 

Grown-ups are always telling 

About things happened 

Before I came; 

Nothing's the same now I've come. 

Funny, I think. 

Things happened to me, too, 

Before I came; 

Nothing's the same. 

I know I had wings: 

I remember how I flew. 

Those are some of the things 

I remember night-times. — 

I do it in dreams 

So I won't forget too. 



MOODS 

Mother has moods and I have moods : 

They're queer. 
Sometimes I see them clear, — 
That's when they're through 

tormenting me. 
Their hair is black as black can be, 
It sticks out straight and 

frightens me; 
And they have eyes that look out, 
Down, all turned about, — 
They look the wrong way out. 
They come and take us when they please 
And make us do the things they like. 
She says that we must make them 
Do the things we like, 
And then perhaps they'll go away 
To that place where they stay. 
It must be dismal in the house 
Where black moods live; 
When I have extra happiness to give 

I'll send them some. 
I'll send it on the wings of joy; — 
They won't refuse it from a little 

boy. 



PART II 





SUMMER 

Summer's come. How my garden grows 
Violets in bunches, pansies all in rows,— 

Same old pansies wearing faces 
That they wore last year — 
Laughing at me — looking queer 
Out the corners of their eyes, 
Making believe that they are 

Awful wise. 

Oh, I'm going to have such lovely fun, 
For the summer's just begun; 
I'm not going to dread the fall, 

'Cause after all 
Mother Nature tucks them in their seed, 
Just as Mother tucks me into bed 

For the sleep I need. 




BULLDOGS ON A STEM 

Like little bulldogs on a stem 
My pansies look, — I bark at them; 
Perhaps if I could hark 
Enough, I'd hear them bark 

at me. 
If they had tails they might get free 
And run around and play with me. 




SMELLERS 

Lilies of the valley 

Smell sweeter than the others; 

They're my favorites and Mother's 

for smellers. 
They seem to catch my breath 
And make me glad, — 
Somehow it's mixed with feeling sad. 
Everything seems mixed, — 

I wonder why? 
I think I'd like to mix things too. 
Maybe it's why I like the lilies' smell, 
Because they're sad and glad together, 
And so being mixed is just as well; 
It isn't bad, — it's like the sun 
And rain in April weather. 



WHEN MOTHER SINGS 

There are some things 

I remember when Mother sings 

Before I sleep. 

Once I was a blue flower 

On a tall green stem; 

I grew on a hillside 

And could see far and wide; 

I didn't feel alone, 

For growing near 

There was a vine 

Red in the sunshine. 

There are some things 

I remember 

When Mother sings 

Before I sleep. 



WILD LILIES 

Once I planted some wild lilies 

from the wood; 
Now they have become quite 

tame and good. 
Mother says they're full of graces, — 
I think they've very funny faces. 

Every morning I'm afraid they'll 

not be there; 
Though I weed and water them with care, 
I'm very much afraid they'll 

run away, 
'Cause mother says I'll find them 

gone some day. 

I wonder why mother said I'd find 

them gone some day; — 
Does it mean I too must run away? 
Must I go and find them where they stay? 
I think about it lots while I'm at play. 





FLOWER FACES 

When very hard and long I look, 
My flowers have faces that I've 

seen in a book, — 
Or perhaps it was a fan. 
I think I could see anything 
If I looked long enough; 
It's things I'm thinking of I see, — 
They all come out to play with me. 

Sometimes I get afraid; I say, 
"I do not like you, go away!" 
But they won't go, they stay; 
And I go somewhere else to play. 




ASTERS AND ASTERS 

Asters and asters, a whole row 

All alike, — must be brothers 

Or sisters, I don't know which. 

I don't love them as I do the others. 

They're not wild; they're tame, — 

And they look all the same. 

I wonder if they feel that way. 

They won't play, — 

They just look at me and say 

nothing. 
Oh, dear! I'll go the other path 

to play. 
They're so dull — I'll run away; 
I won't come near them all day, 

So there! 
They won't care — they'll only say 

nothing. 




<?T 



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MOTHER NATURE 



I just picked a rose to pieces. 

I've been thinking about 

All the work that Mother Nature does 

Before a rose is ready to come out, — 

All the different parts, 

And other things, like those 

Things you can't tell about, — 

The looks and the smell of a rose. 

There must be very much that 

Mother Nature knows; 

I think she did experiments 

Before she did a rose. 



FEELING CROOKED 

Life's hard, I think. 

It's been hard all day. 

I've had a crooked feeling inside, 

And everything I did was the same way. 

Mother says when I'm better inside 

I'll be better outside. 

I'm going to see: 

I'll be as good as I can be. 





ALL IN THEIR BEST 

The flowers are dressed 

All in their best 

Because it is their season; 

But I think that the reason 

Is that I'm going to have my fete, 

And they are afraid 

They might be late. 




AUNTIE 



Auntie's come. She's a girl; 
She's Daddy's sister, — 
And her hair's all a yellow curl. 
She goes this way when she walks, 
As if she had a tail, — 
Wriggle, wriggle like a fish, 
And she laughs while she talks. 
About night time she's some fun: 
Lets me play with her hair, 
And tells me stories that scare. 
It shouldn't be done, Mother says, 
'Cause I had a night-mare 
All wound in Auntie's hair. 
I couldn't get loose; 
I tried so very hard, — and then 
I cried. 
Mother says there's no excuse. 



II 

Auntie's gone away; 

She couldn't stay. 

She's coming back some day ; 

She's going to be my wife. 

I'll have her all my life, 

All tangled in her yellow hair — 

Such soft hair. 

But I'm sort of 'fraid of 

That night-mare. 

I think I'll need Mother too; 

If the hair wound tight 

And the mare galloped in the night, 

Mother would know what to do. — 

Yes, I'll need Mother too. 




THE CANNIBAL 

Mignonette and violets and roses, — 
All these smelly ones I think 

are made for noses. 
I like them best. 
Makes the others sort of mad, 

you see; 
They've been sticking out their tongues 

at me. 

I'm so glad that we have summer showers, 
'Cause I couldn't live without my flowers. 
Sometimes I love them so I eat them; 
Mother says it's how a cannibal would 
treat them. 



ON THE WAY TO DOVER 

Mother says Land's End 

Is at Penzance, 

And clear days you can see 

'Most to France. 

But I know — Auntie told me — 

There's an edge at Dover 

Where I could see things 

If I looked over. 

I climbed on top the gate-post 
And looked down the road; 
Something was hopping by, — 
It was a toad. 
I think he was on the way to 

Dover, 
Going to the edge to look over. 
They are so free, toads are, — 
They can hop so far. 




DANDY-LIONS 

The dandy-lions in the field 
Have sent a lot of ships a-flying 
Over my garden wall; 
With their white sails they're trying 
To take my garden for their own; 
Lots and lots of them have flown 

over the wall. 
Mother calls them yellow perils; 
I call them dandy-lions. 
I'd like to have them come some more, — 
I'd like to have them in and 

hear them roar. 
Mother says they must be kept outside the 

wall 
Or there'll be no other flowers at all; 
Perhaps they'd devour them — so they must 

come no more. 
But oh! I want to hear them roar. 



THE ZOO AT TEA 



I'm going to invite the Zoo to tea, — 
It's just pretend, as you will see. 
The Elephant and the Kangaroo — 
I know a rhyme about those two. 
I think the Hartebeeste and the Gnu 
Should go into a poem too. 
Giraffes are queer; they don't fit in. 
They're very different indeed, — 
Their necks keep getting in the way; 
One never knows how long they'll stay. 
But Elephants are lovely things; 
When they are angels they'll have wings. 
Perhaps their ears might grow enough 
If they could have some more ear stuff. 
I think that Elephants were flowers 
A little different from ours; 
Maybe they were a giant's flowers 
And helped him pass his lonely hours. 



II 

The Lion and the Tiger, — oh! 
What will I have for them to eat? 
I think the Tea will seem quite slow 
Unless they have a little meat. 
Suppose they ate the others up, — 
The monkeys and the china pup! — 
Of course I have invited him, — 
They'd break him if they bited him. 
I think I won't invite the Zoo. 
The kitten and the pup will do, 
And tiger lilies three or two. 
Some dandy-lions might get through; 
There is a place if they but knew, — 
I made it in the wall. 




BUGABOO 

Down in the corner of my garden 

There is something — 

Bugaboo — bugaboo ! 
I'm not afraid of you. 
What makes you do that way, — 
What makes you cry woo! woo? 

Bugaboo! bugaboo! 
I'm not afraid of you. 

I don't think so, 

I don't know. 

Now mother's come. 
"I thought you knew," she said, 
"It was a little wind that blew, 
Trying to get through the garden gate, 
Afraid it would be late 
for bed-time. 



"Crying, Woo! woo! gate, 
Don't stand in my way. 
Woo! woo! let me through, 
I can't wait after sunset, — 
I'm afraid of bugaboos." 



Mother said I 
The wind is 'fraid of: 
I guess he don't know 
What I'm made of. 

Come in, Bugaboo! 
I'm not afraid of you. 



was the Bugaboo 





^ 



CN 




A WALK WITH DADDY 

I went to walk with Daddy 
Through the fields and far away. 
The sun was making shadows, 
Everything was out at play. 
The vines were playing tag, 
They caught me by my feet, 
And all the birds were singing, 
Singing high and sweet. 
The grass was feeling funny, 
It sort of laughed at me, 
And a toad came hopping after 
As pleasant as could be. 




FALLING OFF THE EDGE 

Mother explained to me about Krupp 

And everything about war, 

And I gave up caring: 

I loved my gun, 

But I just gave it up, — 

And then the war begun: 

It was silly — just when I'd 

decided not. 
I heard Daddy talking to a man 
Explaining how the war began. 
Too many folks, "spansion," he said; 
All those people got to go dead. 
If there's too many people, 
Why aren't they brave enough 
To go near the edge and fall off? 
They needn't go all off, — 
But just save enough to start new; 
That's not so much to do. 
There's an edge at Dover 
Where you can lie on your stomach 

And look over. 



THE EXPLAIN BOOK 

My new flowers have bloomed. 

A long while it took. 

Daddy says they have a fool look. 

I'm afraid he'll frighten them, 

And they'll get mad and won't stay. 

I don't think it's polite 

To speak that way. 

There's lots of things that grown-ups 

say, don't seem polite: 
If I said them it wouldn't be right. 




Mother talked to Daddy. She said, 
"You work in chemicals, so do they; 
You're a business man, 
And they're business flowers; 
They have their work to do, — 
Cherry and peach blossoms are that 

way too." 
She said she'd explain 
When she knew more herself. 
There's an explain book 
In the study on the top shelf; 
When she has time she'll look. 




THE MAN IN THE MOON 

The man in the moon 

Came into my room, 

He came in the window way; 

He got on the bed with me 

And stayed till almost day. 

And mother said, 

"It's what you have read, — 

It stayed in your head, you see." 

Before he went out 

He danced about 

By the light of himself on the floor — 

He danced on the top of his head. 

I wish he would come some more 

And dance about on the floor. 

Every night when I go to bed 

I try to dance on the top of my head 

The man in the moon 

Came into my room. , 

He came in the window way. 



GRAND'MERE 



Grand'mere's come to see me 
All the way from France. 
She's very old and strange 

and so polite; 
She is like a flower 
That's most gone to seed, 
Ready to bloom again — 

Almost, not quite. 
She wears silken gowns, 
Swishy ones that shine 
Something like a fairy — 
Something, not quite. 
She's something like a rose 
That the leaves fell off, 
Mostly gone to Heaven — 

Mostly, not quite. 
Perhaps she talks «with angels 
In her dreams at night, 
'Cause in the morning her eyes 

are shining bright. 



THE THORN TREE 

Oh, dear! I've had trouble 
With the thorn tree. 
I think he must be some 
Relation to the bee, 
'Cause he's got a sting 

that stuck me. 
Oh, dear! and my stocking's 

got a hole — 
Most the whole of it's a hole. 
Ah, ha, — now Mother's come. 
She'll be so glad 
Because I didn't get scratched 

bad. 



STRANGE FACES 

I don't know those flowers: 
They have strange faces. 
They've climbed up to look 

over the wall. 
I don't know who they are at all. 
Perhaps they know some flowers inside 
And want to come over and call. 
I'm not going to ask them in to stay 
Even if they are relations: 
Mother doesn't always ask 
My cousins in to play, 
Often she says, "Some other day." 





MIDNIGHT 



The dream stopped all at once. 

Mother had come into my room. 

She said, "The century plant's abloom/ 

It was midnight, so Mother said. 

She let me get out of my bed 

And wrapped me soft on Daddy's arm 

So that I could not come to harm, 

And then we tiptoed down the stair 

And caught the flower unaware. 



It was the middle of the night. 
The moon was shining very bright, 
And all the garden was as light 

as day. 
And there were lanterns, too, all 
Set upon the garden wall. 
As if the flowers had a ball. 
And then I saw a lovely sight, 
For there was something big and white- 
A flower that eame awake at night. 
I felt and felt all kinds of ways, — 
It was so different from the days. 
I'd like that sort of flower to be; 
Folks would get up to look at me. 




GROWING UP 

The wind was playing with my hair. 
It matches to a daffodil. — 
And mother kissed me sort of still, 
And said to Daddy, "Fair — how fair! 
The little god." 

I didn't see him when I looked — 

he wasn't there. 
The sun was shining and the day 

was fair. 
I didn't see him; I looked everywhere. 

To-morrow I am going to school, 
And mother's going to bob my hair. 
I'll be a grown-up. — I can't cry, 
But mother does. — I wonder why. 



THE SCALAWAG 

I've been to school a week to-day, 
And every day I've run away, — 
But it's no use. 

It's no use trying to be free, — 
They've gone and stuck me to a tag 
It's Scalawag. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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